The experts did not arrive all at once.

  If they had, someone might have noticed.

  The first one showed up just after nine, parked crookedly near the fence line in a truck that advertised AUTOMATION SOLUTIONS in a font that tried too hard to look futuristic. He didn’t introduce himself so much as announce a conclusion.

  “Looks like a calibration issue,” he said, standing three feet from Bunny Twelve and nodding like the case was closed.

  Jake blinked. “You haven’t touched it.”

  The man waved a hand. “You don’t need to. You can hear it.”

  “It’s not running,” Jake said.

  “Exactly.”

  Howard passed behind them carrying a box of parts. He did not slow down.

  The second expert arrived by email.

  The subject line read: PRELIMINARY ANALYSIS (URGENT).The body contained no words.There were seven attachments.

  Jake opened the first one and immediately regretted it.

  “It’s a slideshow,” he muttered.

  Trent leaned over his shoulder. “How many slides?”

  Jake scrolled. “Forty-two.”

  “Any conclusions?”

  “Slide thirty-eight looks confident.”

  Howard glanced at the screen. “Does it define its terms?”

  Jake checked. “No.”

  Howard nodded. “Then it’s speculative.”

  The third expert was someone’s cousin.

  “I do robotics,” the cousin said, confidently, setting down a coffee he hadn’t paid for.

  Jake nodded. “What kind?”

  “Advanced.”

  Jake waited.

  “Mostly conceptual,” the cousin added. “But I watch a lot of videos.”

  Howard set his box down and looked at the cousin. “What do you think is happening?”

  The cousin gestured broadly. “Trust breakdown.”

  Jake snorted.

  Howard considered it. “Between whom?”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The cousin hesitated. “The system.”

  Howard nodded. “That’s not the issue.”

  The cousin wrote something down anyway.

  By midmorning, the yard had opinions.

  The clipboard now had a supplement. Someone had created a flowchart. Someone else had printed the flowchart and taped it next to the bunny, where it immediately curled in the sun.

  The truck expert crouched, squinting at a sensor housing. “If you bypass this,” he said, “you could force a response.”

  Howard stopped walking.

  “No,” he said.

  The man looked up. “Just temporarily.”

  “No,” Howard repeated.

  “But it’d tell us—”

  “No.”

  Jake watched the exchange carefully. “He didn’t raise his voice,” he said to Trent.

  “That’s how you know it’s serious,” Trent replied.

  The slideshow expert called at noon.

  “Well,” the voice on the other end said, “based on our initial review, we believe you’re seeing emergent behavior.”

  Jake put the phone on speaker. “Define emergent.”

  There was a pause. “Unexpected.”

  Howard shook his head slightly.

  “So,” Jake said, “nothing is happening.”

  “Something is happening,” the voice corrected. “It’s just not what you intended.”

  Howard reached over and muted the phone. “Intent doesn’t apply.”

  Jake covered the receiver. “Do you want to take this?”

  Howard considered it, then shook his head. “No.”

  Jake unmuted. “Thanks for your time,” he said, and hung up before the other person could object.

  By early afternoon, the whiteboard was full again.

  Three competing theories occupied roughly equal space. Each had arrows. Each had caveats. None agreed on terminology.

  Trent pointed at one. “This one’s my favorite. It assumes the robots are sulking.”

  Jake rubbed his temples. “Why does everyone want it to be emotional?”

  Howard looked up from the bench. “Because emotion implies negotiation.”

  The cousin nodded vigorously. “Exactly.”

  Howard met his eyes. “No.”

  That word traveled farther than it should have.

  The supervisor cleared her throat. “We appreciate everyone’s input, but until we receive official guidance—”

  “From whom?” Jake asked.

  She hesitated. “The vendor.”

  Howard interjected calmly. “The vendor did not authorize the shutdown.”

  The room went quiet.

  “That’s… not how it felt,” the supervisor said.

  Howard nodded. “Feelings are lagging indicators.”

  The truck expert folded his arms. “So what are you saying?”

  Howard answered without drama. “That nothing is broken. And nothing is authorized to be fixed yet.”

  “That’s not actionable,” the man said.

  Howard shrugged. “Neither is guessing.”

  The meeting dissolved shortly after, leaving behind coffee cups and half-finished sentences.

  Jake found Trent by the fence, watching Bunny Twelve again.

  “You notice,” Trent said, “how every expert has a solution, and none of them want to wait?”

  Jake nodded. “Waiting doesn’t make you feel useful.”

  Howard joined them. “It makes you accountable.”

  Trent raised an eyebrow. “That’s not popular.”

  Howard looked out at the yard. “It’s durable.”

  By the end of the day, the experts had mostly departed.

  The truck drove away. The slideshow went unanswered. The cousin promised to “circle back.”

  The clipboard remained.

  Jake leaned against the doorframe, exhausted. “So this is what happens when competence leaves a vacuum.”

  Howard corrected him gently. “This is what happens when certainty does.”

  Trent stretched. “On the bright side, nobody tried to rename them.”

  Jake laughed. “Yet.”

  Howard locked the cabinet and turned off the lights. “Experts optimize for intervention.”

  Jake looked back at the bunnies. “And you?”

  Howard considered the question. “I optimize for restraint.”

  Outside, the systems stayed quiet.

  Inside, everyone had an opinion.